Pins and Needles
by kaihil lover
Summary: "Maybe life isn't cut out for everyone," the psychiatrist muttered rubbing her temples with two fingers. Kai narrowed his eyes feeling rather annoyed, "are you telling me to commit suicide, Hi-ro-mi?" KaiHil


**_Chapter 1: Misery Business_**

The ticking of a clock and the mad scribbling of a pencil on a sheet of paper coming to an occasional halt at times- only to be replaced by the sound of the wooden back of it being chewed- was the only sound in the clinic of the young doctor. After a while of frenzied writing, the doctor -pursing her glossed lips- closed the file in front of her and resumed the chewing of the back of her pencil. A glance at the plaque on the door directly in front of her, _Dr._ _Hiromi Tachibana_, followed by her education degrees, and she leaned back into her chair resting her head on the headrest and resorted to staring at the ceiling.

Twenty nine years of age, Hiromi Tatibana, had two years of experience under her belt in the field of psychology. She started practice, though in a country across an ocean from her homeland, immediately after finishing her doctoral degree and her internship along with it. She was good at her profession and she wouldn't think of reconsidering her career path.

There had been a lot of incidents that had led to her choosing the profession she did. She helped people with their fears, their insecurities, their phobias, their depressions; she tried to cure them off the ailments that had them shunned by normal society and feeling like their life wasn't worth living.

An extra course had earned her the certification of being permitted to prescribe medicine, but she only used the privilege as a last option to aid the continuing of her normal treatment. She wanted to help people, to make them happy, to guide them, and show them the life was worth living, to end their guilt and self hatred and make them proud of whom they are. Not give just drugs to alleviate emotional trauma and the psychological disorder, but to help them come to terms with whatever caused the damage and to render them able to deal with it on their own without the constant daily use of antidepressants.

However, in midst of keeping a happy façade in front of these people to show them that life was indeed worth fighting for- that they were far more precious and beautiful then they realized to be, that people actually cared for them, loved them-she couldn't help but feel saddened at times by all that they were suffering. There were people suffering in so many ways, some as a result of emotional trauma, others, physical.

There was also the remorse that she couldn't always help everyone. The possibility that someone would go over the edge before she could completely help them was always there, barricading all doors for further recovery.

She wasn't God and she was clearly not superman; she was just a human who had seen people in her life suffer -while she watched helplessly, unable to assist in the right way – in _any_ way. But now, she had the knowledge, the experience, to help those who most needed it…but still it didn't guarantee anything. And though she understood this, but each time she lost a patient, the guilt and self-reproach would return in full swing.

What right did she have to give them false hope that things would always be alright, no matter what had happened, and what will? It was at time like these that despite all her education, all her success, the numerous people she had helped, she couldn't help feel like a failure and also immensely guilty.

All that she preached, all the words of encouragement and hope she offered, everything she told her patients to make them open up to her, to make them feel comfortable, seemed useless to her own self. She felt like a hypocrite, the insecurities she tried to get rid of and the support she gave to others seemed pretty pathetic and ineffectual when it was herself that she was trying to brighten up.

Everything that contradicted her fears and regrets, all seemed like a boat load of rubbish.

There were no sorts of patients she said no to; children, adults, people with psychological disorders, the depressed, the anxious the emotionally crippled, the abused, those who needed someone to talk to relieve their fears and regrets and dreams and hopes. No one who came, or was brought to her for help, was ever turned down. As long as she had the ability, she would help everyone she could. All in hopes that maybe somehow saving just one more life might bring some small amount of peace to that someone she couldn't save. The guilt and regret of which had made her into who she was today.

Still, Hiromi was aware that she herself would never find peace no matter how many people she helped and how many lives she saved. Not until she found her old childhood friend with the dual hair and the blood red eyes you could drown into and helped him, until she was sure he was alright and happy and all that she wanted for him to be and told him every regret and each bit of remorse she had been caging in her mind for so long. Apologies were overdue, rights were meant to be granted and forgiveness was to be demanded.

She owed him an apology for not trying to help; just because she was unable didn't mean she shouldn't have tried. Every right he had to know all that she had done in compensation for letting him hurt in hopes of earning compensation for not helping him, hoping somehow helping others would do something for him in return, earn him a little peace of mind; and her need to help was only because she had learnt its importance from seeing him suffer. Forgiveness because she had done everything she could and more, and she didn't deserve to suffer from this guilt anymore.

However, she knew that the chances of her getting an opportunity to show how much she worked for and to redeem her was unlikely. So, she would continue being happy and living life like it wasn't going to last, 'cause it wasn't because that was how it was supposed to be. And that's how she'd be able to help people she could no longer survive without helping. She'd let one person down and a second chance wasn't going to come to her no matter how much she worked for it. She wasn't going to let anyone else down just because she couldn't get what she wanted.

Hunching and pulling her feet on her spinning-chair, Hiromi wrapped her arms around them and laid her head on her knees. She looked around her surroundings. It was a medium sized room with faint yellow lights which made the room seem dim and secure. One of the walls, the one on Hiromi's right was painted a dull terracotta color while the rest were in a shade of soft gold. Walls included, nothing in the room was too bright, incase any patient might find it distracting or uncomfortable.

Rugs and carpet pieces of different textures and colors, all in dull shades of red and auburn, covered almost the entire marble flooring. There were lamps at the corners casting a rosy glow in the area near them. A large window with closed blinds was on her left, with undrawn curtains pushed to the side. She didn't want the view of the outside world to be visible other than if required; there was no need for taking a futile chance materializing the fear of anyone. Her office was supposed to be a safe space for all, and she'd be damned if it not be. A fire place, which had never been lit, was under the windows. There was a lot of art work on the wall; mostly generic, nothing that anyone might find offensive or affronting. The wall behind her, however, had no art work, only framed certificates and degrees.

Couches and sofas covered with fabric of different pattern in the same dim shades of russet and bronze made an arc around a coffee table in the centre of the room; this was where she usually held her sessions.

Shelves and shelves of books and ornaments were placed against almost each of the walls, except the one in front of which her desk and set of chairs were. Any form of decoration pieces were on high, out-of-reach shelves. People tended to throw and break things when they were upset and Hiromi didn't want to keep anything that would encourage violence within a normal heighted human's reach. The medicine cabinet was also not reachable without the aid of a stool. Nothing pointed or sharp was to be seen anywhere in the room. There were cupboards with drawers placed a little farther away from her desk and chairs, which contained the files and history of each patient. The location was easily accessible which was ideal since she needed to check up on past details every now and then. A bin of toys covered with a lid was placed in the corner hidden from plain view.

The place was well cleaned and sanitary. Her own preference of hygiene, unlike a certain old navy-haired friend of hers, had a hand in that along with the fact that many of the patients who decided to seek out therapy were patients of obsessive-compulsive disorder and as a psychologist she didn't want to materialize the fears of her patients; providing an atmosphere which her patients would be comfortable in was always a priority.

In short, the office was the perfect and appropriate embodiment of what a therapist's clinic should be from each aspect of her line of occupation. There was nothing which could be considered unhealthy for any form of patient who might visit her. After two years, however, of being confined in the prim-perfect room pretending to be more satisfied and contented than she could be in a life time for the sake of appearance necessary to be maintained for her line of field, Hiromi couldn't help but feel the walls of her supposed-to-be calming and consoling clinic drew in a little closer each day.

Hiromi's eyes finally landed back on her desk. It was a dark brown and maroon-ish thing covered with beige covering on the centre with two cushioned chairs in front of it. A laptop was placed in one corner and a low lamp on another. It was cluttered with note pads, stationary, paper weights and files. There were two phones one corner of the wooden platform. After a few moments of contemplation in which she chewed on her lips, the Japanese girl picked the one nearest to her.

"Natsuki," she stated, "how many more appointments for the day?" She waited for the reply. "Just one more, at ten?" she confirmed, after listening to her secretary's answer, "Alright, thanks."

Well, her next session, it seemed was a good, solid hour away. That left her stuck here in the confines of her office, completely idle with her thoughts for another thirty minutes.

"I feel like I'm the one who needs a therapist…" she muttered.

Two years it had been since she moved to the Russian Federation, again for old reason dear to her heart, which made no difference for her or others whom they revolved around. Still, if she wanted to help people than Russia would be the place she'd start from.

It were people of this very nation who's misery, and her being helplessness to provide them with any assistance, events of her early years was what drove her to become a counselor.

Japan or Russia, she would be helping people either way, and there was no way she could change the past and save those who's suffering actually rendered her to choosing this career. This place was where the roots of her passion for her work lied, and she was not going to change her viewpoints and values just because they seemed pointless now.

The clock chiming seven broke Hiromi from her musings. She raised her head to look over at the clock to confirm. It was placed on such a wall where it wouldn't be in view by the patients whether they were seated in front of her desk or the couch; she needed to be aware of the time, they didn't need to have the time hounding them. The hands of the clock pointed to ten o' clock: it was indeed the appointment time of her last patient.

With a shake of the head, she tried to clear herself of thoughts that had been flitting through her idle mind. She removed her feet from the chair and sat up straight waiting for the patient to enter, wondering if it was someone she had previously counseled, if so then who, or if it was someone new.

She hoped it wasn't anything too bad or anything that had stemmed from too tragic a background; she was upset enough as it was. Ten minutes had passed with no one showing up and the brunette was hunched back again with her elbows propped on the table, her face resting in her hands and eyes closed, a slight pout on her lips. If the person wasn't here in the next twenty minutes she would definitely be locking up and leaving.

Just as she came to the decision, there was a vaguely familiar knock on the door. She sat up straight once more and blinked quickly a couple of times to focus on her surroundings. "Come in," she called out attentively.

The door creaked open and a man in a business suit walked in, closing the door cautiously behind him.

"Kai?" she asked blinking at the familiar, yet not-familiar-at-all man in front of her. It was apparent that he was just as shocked with her presence in the room, as she was with his. How long had she wanted to see him, and now he was here, and she couldn't understand what, why or how to do anything.

"Why are you here?" she asked, since he wasn't making any attempt to respond. The question was not supposed to come out like that. But Hiromi's breath was caught in her throat and her heart was pounding and coherent thoughts slash words were just barely coming to her.

"I need help." His answer was abrupt and to the point and together with his disinterested tone, it was altogether oh-so-Kai-ish. The words had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. _Hiromi_, his old teammate from Japan, he wasn't sure what to think right now.

Hiromi blinked at him, still unsure of what to say, what to do. So many times she had dreamed of a confrontation similar, yet not-so-similar to this with the man standing in front of the door afraid to move forward as if a single step on the woolen carpet would burn him to his very core. So many things there were that she had planned to say, yet nothing felt right at the moment. She was tongue-tied to the point that she couldn't even say his name.

"Sit," Hiromi croaked, gesturing with her hand towards a seat in front of her. She never talked to patients sitting behind the desk, preferring to discuss with them while being seated on the couches. Right now, her legs were jelly-o and any attempt at walking even the shortest distance would probably be mortifyingly disastrous.

The man in front of her, dressed in the all black suit with the loose grey tie and black shoes polished to the point of perfection, was eyeing his surroundings and her critically, and almost suspiciously. Slowly, he started crossing the room and making his way over to where she was seated.

Hiromi knew it had been quite a while since they had associated, but she was not in the mood to prove herself to the weary man in front of her once more. Earning the confidence of her patient was of course her job, but earning Kai Hiwatari's trust was something that was far too troublesome.

Still, this was what she had worked for all her life. Everything that she was, all that she stood for and loved, it had all started and ended with him. This was the chance she had always wanted, to be there for her old friend whom she couldn't help when he needed it the most. The second chance she'd always wanted, the opportunity to redeem herself, to finally conclude what she had wanted to do how long ago; this was it, and she would be damned before she let her fear or guilt or confusion at the situation at hand ruin her chance to help the man who's pain had made her want to help all those in need.

No, she would help Kai with whatever he needed help in, no matter how infuriating his behavior may still be.

Kai had walked across the room and was now seated uncomfortably in the chair in front of his old acquaintance. When he had agreed with Ivanov to finally see a shrink and asked him to get an appointment, he had not expected it to be someone he knew. Heck, even after hearing the vaguely familiar voice was he didn't know it was going to be an old comrade who'd be in the room.

It was only when he walked in the room did the bomb shell fell on him and he saw that the doctor who would be psychoanalyzing him would be _Hiromi_. There was always the chance that he could run out... that door was never closed.

The girl who had been taking out some files from drawers and turning pages in a notebook finally looked up at her patient with a weary, yet determined face.

"Why are you here, again?" she repeated, twiddling with a pencil in her hand.

Kai rolled his eyes. "I need help." He practically spelled out the words. For some reason, he felt far more comfortable with having Hiromi as his shrink than he would have expected to. She was a person he knew for God's sake, and he had been uncomfortable with the idea of sharing his thoughts with even a stranger, but for some reason sitting in front of the girl he once knew he couldn't feel a spec of discomfort.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked, rubbing her temples with two fingers. The prospect of screwing this up being high and the lack of cooperation she was surely going to receive from Kai was making her uncomfortable and nervous. She was _never _uncertain about talking to her patients, yet she felt tongue tied to the extreme right now; then again she never had to deal with the man whose presence in her past life was what everything in her intricately webbed world directly or indirectly revolved around.

Kai resisted the urge to roll his eyes again at Hiromi's words. He raised an eyebrow and smirked what seemed like his old signature smirk. "Not even a little." He never wanted to see a shrink, and the whole prospect of this therapy still sounded bullshit to him, and something he felt he clearly didn't need, but he was willing to see how it'd go.

Hiromi sighed and smiled kindly at the man in front of her who seemed to be ready to ditch out and run away from dealing with his problems as soon as possible. No, she wasn't letting either of their fears stopping her from helping him. She would make amends and set things right even if it killed her, and with Kai being involved it just might.

This was going to be a shaky start to many _long_ sessions to come.

* * *

**AN: Each time I start a multi chaptered fic, I would wish why couldn't I remember the detail that I have no future plot for this before I started writing. This time I remembered this when I got this idea, planned to write it, and wrote it, and decided to publish it. Yet, here I am, publishing/ starting another multi chaptered fic. ****Readers, you have every right to hit me with rotten tomatoes. :P**

**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. This idea had been haunting me for almost a month! Hiromi, giving Kai therapy sessions, the possibilities stretching in front of my eyes are endless! o.o Oh, if there's any real therapist reading, and has noticed any error in any information I have conveyed, I'd like to apologize, and would request that you please correct me. **

**Review, if you can. You don't have to, but it'd be nice if you do. :P**

**Thank you to _Dead-bY-n0w, Moonlight Serenity, jottlover91 _and_ Okami1001_ for reviewing _It Face_, and _Kawaii-Chibi-Kai, izza-x23_ and _Gigglesworth_ for reviewing _Backup Plan_. You guys rock! xD**

**06:00 p.m. 30th August, 2012.**


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